


Vanity Search

by snowyfoxpaws



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Falling In Love, M/M, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowyfoxpaws/pseuds/snowyfoxpaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland is a writer and developer for a popular horror game series. Alfred F. Jones is a college student who uploads videos of himself playing games.</p><p>Without the internet, they never would have met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Street Date

**Author's Note:**

> So this was initially meant to be a one shot, and something of a joke, but people really wanted to see a continuation of it so here we are.
> 
> Two men who spend far too much time in front of computer screens finding love.

It was a little silly, really, but Arthur Kirkland rather appreciated the fans who took to not only playing through his games but posting videos of their antics online. It was a new trend, recently popularized by a few antsy users and some viral clips, and yet he couldn’t help but have a deep feeling of fond gratitude for the change. It was one thing for someone to  _tell you_  that they found your game scary…

It was another thing entirely to  _watch them_  be scared.

And Arthur loved his craft, truly. The art of constructing a setting in which a user felt safe and secure, only to rip that away from them without notice by the hand of a cleverly placed monster or noise, was a delightful one. And, even better, the random chance mechanics—did that beastie always roam this hall or was he merely creeping through on some sort of eerie patrol? Where was he now? And how soon would he be  _back?_

Mystery and illusion spun together to create a world in which you could not win unless you ran. Fight and die— there was no heroism here for the brave. No, you were forced to cower behind crates and barrels, skittering your way through levels and plot until you finally, blessedly, reached the end.

 _This_  was Arthur Kirkland’s passion.

And so that morning he turning on his computer, a cup of tea in hand, and settled in for a relaxing Saturday. Curiosity pricked behind his eyes as he scanned the site’s search page for any new videos and, oh—

Oh, _there_  was a new one.

He grinned to himself, all teeth and giddiness as he clicked the link. He knew of this user—they were rather popular, actually—but the boy had never taken to his games before so he had never felt a need to watch. No, this was a selfish little indulgence, but it was one he partook in shamelessly in the safety of his own home.

And now Arthur could see just  _why_  the lad was so popular. He was quite attractive, really, what with the webcam display settled neatly in the bottom left corner. American, too. And, ah, the video was loading. It was beginning.

Time for a show.

The narrator began to speak and Arthur relaxed to the sound of the man’s voice—one he had met in person and had lunch with. The boy, Alfred, made a low whistle noise.

_"Wow, they’re all British in this, huh?"_

Of course they were. Arthur rolled his eyes to himself, amused. Did he not research this game in advance? All the better then. Perhaps he was unaware of some of the more intricate scares. Arthur smirked at the screen and settled in.

He needn’t wait very long.

_"So we just need find the next pieeeECEEEEEEEEEEEE, OH MY GOOOOD—,"_

Arthur jumped, headphones jarred loose on his head at the sudden rise in volume. In all honesty,  _that_  had startled  _him_ , his heart beating in little, surprised jumps. He lowered the sound and watched with mirth as the boy lost his mind over a teeny, tiny jump scare. “ _Oh—_  Oh,  _you_  will be fun.” He murmured to himself, leaning back in his chair.

And, indeed,  _he was_.

It seemed Alfred never really played horror games or, at least, was fairly new to ones like this but, from what Arthur observed over the course of the video, his fear came from something jumpy and internal and not, as was true for many, from his inexperience.

The lad was, simply put, easily spooked.

Reaching the end of the third part in the series, Arthur sat back, an eagerness for more in him as he quickly clicked the subscribe button.

And so began a  _new_  passion.

A month later, Alfred F. Jones finished his game in its entirety and Arthur, for all intents and purposes, should have been happy.

 _Should have_  been.

And yet…

He wasn’t.

No, not at all. In fact it felt rather like he had just lost something of a friend. It felt like they had shared something intimate— creator and consumer, but…

No,  _Alfred_  was the creator here, was he not? And  _Arthur_  the consumer. The dynamic had changed. He had enjoyed the videos without even so much as Alfred knowing that he existed. He didn’t leave comments, but he did like the videos when they came out—favourited them, even. But that didn’t _mean_  anything. Alfred was popular and Arthur was just another face among the masses. True, a more influential face maybe, but why would that matter to someone like the young college student?

Not that Arthur was much older, mind, but nonetheless.

He felt unsettled—unsatisfied—and it  _gnawed_  at him. He wanted Alfred to play more of his games. He wanted to watch him jump and scream and rage quit in near tears. He wanted him to yell until his voice was hoarse and raw and—

_Oh._

That was quite an indecent line of thought, wasn’t it?

He didn’t feel like  _that_  about him… did he?

Arthur’s face was heating up— he could feel it. His heart skittered and leapt in his chest.

Covering his face with his hands, he fell back in his chair with a quiet, profound, “Bollocks.”

He was in love with a man who didn’t even know he  _existed_.

Or, at the very least, it was a rather deeply set crush.

How utterly _embarrassing_.

Well, the only thing he could do was change that, yes? Arthur Kirkland didn’t become successful off of sitting back and letting his ‘call to adventure’s go unanswered, after all.

He opened up Alfred’s page, ignoring, for the moment, the way that his profile picture made Arthur’s chest flutter—because now that he  _knew_ , it was  _so bloody obvious_. No, instead he clicked the message button and let his fingers go to work.

_"Dear Alfred Jones,"_

Yes, that would just have to do for now. The information regarding his middle name was on his fan page and Arthur really didn’t want to give him the impression that he’d been perusing _that_ …

_"It has come to my attention that you seem to enjoy the survival horror genre. Perhaps, if your experience with the last one has been to your liking, you might find pleasure in final beta testing the next game in the series, pre-release. Let me know if you would be interested._

_Of course you would be allowed to record your play through and upload it upon the release date._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland_

_Viper Game Studios”_

He hesitated, fumbled, and hit the send button all too soon, aware of the way his heart was racing as though he’d just sent a love letter. It wasn’t very formal and it wasn’t entirely proper, but what was done was done.

Now all he could do was sit back.

And wait.

 

 

Somewhere across the pond, a scream of a different sort rang out as that message was promptly opened: “ _Oh my god_ — Matt, come look at what I just got!”


	2. Beginner's Tutorial

Despite having sent the email, Arthur didn't receive a reply until the next morning, which made him rather antsy because he was keeping a closer than critical eye on the boy's online activities and it wasn't like he wasn't _there_ \--he was--it was just that he hadn't responded.

He even uploaded a video. It wasn't one Arthur was interested in, but he watched it anyway just to listen to his voice and maybe search for any hints about his reaction to the email. (The webcam had just been for the horror game, to Arthur's dismay.)

Yet there was... nothing.

No excitement. No reaction. _Nothing_.

So he slept rather restlessly, consumed with thought.

What if he didn't like the game? What if he didn't care to test it or was too busy? What if he saw the message or forgot-- or _didn't_ see it? What if he didn't get it at all? How long would Arthur have to wait before sending a follow up if he didn't respond? Would that be inappropriate? What if that one didn't go through as well? Would he seem too desperate?

When he woke up the next morning he found himself walking straight to his computer, rather than to the kitchen for tea-- a sign enough that he was in a terrible mood.

He made a slightly strangled sound at the response notification and clicked it, almost tripping over himself to sit in his chair.

_"Whoa I thought I sent this last night! Sorry about that."_

Arthur exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding, but he continued on with a nervous tightness gripping his chest.

_"I'd love to beta-test your game! I don't know if you saw but the last one scared the shit outta me! lol"_

He had seen. Arthur grinned slightly to himself.

_"Anyway yeah let me know if you need an address or something to send it too. :DDDDDD_

_\- Alfred"_

Arthur stared at the message for a long moment.

Then he rose from his seat to slowly pad into the kitchen of his flat. He brewed a cup of black tea, steeping it just so, before walking on soft, bare-footed steps back to his computer. He sank into the cushion of his chair and stared at the message.

He sat there like that in silence until the cup was emptied and his thoughts were so muddled he could hardly keep them straight.

A _personal message_ from Alfred.

He felt all a twitter and, as he was a decent human being, he felt suitably embarrassed by this fact. Even if the boy was woefully negligent when it came to proper grammar and punctuation.

 

 

Appear too eager? Appear too disinterested? What to do, what to do...

Arthur decided to wait until the next day to respond. He was a professional, after all, and he didn't want to give off the air that perhaps he might be more attentive to his messages than was typical of someone who led a busy schedule. It would do him no good to appear to available, after all.

He spent all night thinking about what the message should say and by morning he had perfected it. So, with ease, he began to tap out the carefully thought out response of:

_"Alfred,_

_An address would be lovely."_

He hesitated. No, no. Mentioning love was a bit much, even if it was just a harmless adjective. He erased it and thought for a moment before:

_"An address would be great."_

Yeah, that was safe. Maybe a bit too eager, but still safe.

_"Sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland_

_Viper Game Studios"_

It was simple and too the point. Not overly friendly and not overly detailed. He needed to pretend he had the upper hand here, after all. It was Arthur doing Alfred a favor, yes? If he was too enthusiastic, the boy might get the wrong idea, so he had to be careful, of course.

The rest of the day passed in a blissful blur.

 

 

The following message surprised him a little bit.

_"My brother said something to me so I wanted to ask how do I know you aren't someone just trying to get my address? Becuz a lot of people try and thatd be pretty sneaky dude. :( Can you prove your from the game studio?"_

Arthur stared at the mangled language for a long few moments. It was the evening this time and he'd just had dinner and drinks with a few business associates-- nothing too indulgent, because Arthur was a less than entertaining drunk. He was, however, still a little buzzed.

Thinking things over, he suddenly grinned to himself and wrote,

_"Alfred,_

_I could prove my authenticity through a conference call, if that might ease your concern. We could also take that opportunity to discuss some of the finer details regarding the arrangement._

_Let me know what you think._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland"_

He left off the company label this time, letting the message come across as, hopefully, a bit more friendly and personal.

And besides, this wasn't really on the behalf of the company anyway. It was a personal venture, really...

He went to bed that night, giddy.

 

 

"Bollocks." Arthur hissed to himself, looking over Alfred's response.

_"Yeah dude thatd be great! When do you wanna do it?"_

A conference call...

He stared balefully at his webcam. It was a nice device, really. He'd done numerous web calls using it and, as it was for business, it'd been top of the line. The sound was crisp and clear and the picture was widescreen. It had excellent lighting quality and made him look far better than he could really hope to replicate in real life. His associate, Francis, had once sent him a screenshot that Arthur had had to admit was fairly flattering.

But he was still worried, regardless.

He wanted to look good. He really, really did.

Luckily he had some time to think this over as they sent messages back and forth and finally decided on a date and time that would suit them despite their differences.

Now he just had to wait.

... And find the right outfit.

 

 

"How goes the game thing?"

Alfred looked up from his frosted flakes, some of the bits sticking to his lips with milk. "Oh!" He said without thinking, displaying the contents of his mouth. At Matthews disgusted look he laughed and swallowed it, wiping off the crumbs with his sleeve. "It's going awesome! I'm gonna, like, call the guy on Skype on Saturday and he's gonna tell me the legal jargon or something."

Alfred's brother smiled fondly at this. "Congrats. Cloud nine's pretty nice, eh?"

"Well, I mean..." Alfred grinned at his twin. "I know I'm not getting paid for this, but can you imagine how many subscribers I'll get just for having the game up before anyone else has gotten a chance to play through it? I'm thinkin' I'll upload the videos one after another, too!"

Matthew made his way to the cupboard to search the contents in the hopes of arranging his own breakfast. "It's a pretty good opportunity. Maybe with the revenue we can afford to order pizza again."

Alfred's grin fell slightly and he looked at the bowl in front of him. "Yeah... I'm sorry, Matt. I'm looking for a job-- I really am, I just--,"

"It's fine." The twin assured him. "I know you are. I don't think I could ask you to try harder-- I don't think it's possible."

"I guess..." Alfred rubbed at his neck for a moment before letting go of the issue. "Anyway, yeah, so the call will be at noon on Saturday so I need you to, like, not bring your crazy boyfriend over or anything."

"Gilbert isn't crazy." Matthew corrected for the nth time. "He's just excitable."

"He's a bad influence."

" _Al_."

"What!? I'm just saying..."

Matthew threw him a withering look before shaking his head. "He won't be here, Al. Your precious date is safe."

"Dude, it's not a date! He's a guy!"

"That's never stopped you before."

"And he's probably like fifty years old. Super gross, Matt."

The twin tossed him a disarming smile. "Well, with how excited you've been about it, it's an easy mistake to make." And then his expression eased into something kinder. "I know it's important, Al. I won't ruin it for you."

"I know you won't." Alfred said quickly, feeling guilt at the accusation. After a moment he gave his brother a genuinely grateful smile. "Thanks, though."

"No problem."

 

 

Saturday was upon them all too soon.


	3. KO

Arthur hadn't been this nervous in a long, long time.

He felt very much as though he were going on a date but without the flirting, the dinner, or the chance of a kiss at the end of the night. Of course he kept this to himself, but everyone at the office was suspicious of his sudden giddiness, not that he had to tell them a damned thing.

Still, it'd taken forever to pick out an outfit that would complement him well. He wasn't exactly the best at fashion, although being in the gaming industry had taught him a thing or two about being presentable. However looking attractive to a business partner was a far cry from looking attractive to a...

... to a whatever _Alfred_ was.

Arthur was rather reluctant to put a name to it.

However, before he knew it, it was time. And he was punctual, sitting at his desk for nearly twenty minutes just so that he might press the CALL button on the exact hour, timing it as though it were a kiss on New Year's Eve.

Easing back, he contemplated for a terrifying moment the intelligence of wearing a casual business suit. Was it too formal for something like this? Coat bordering on dark grey, red and white striped tie, white shirt. He folded his hands together in his lap to prevent himself from ending the call then and there, watching as the program dialed, a soft trilling ring from his headset to reassure him that the software was working.

After a time... it ended.

'MISSED CALL'

Arthur stared at it, brow furrowing. The fingers folded together were tight and tense.

He managed to wait all of a minute before trying again.

Once more the call failed to go through simply due to not being received.

Arthur stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he searched through his messages with Alfred, verifying that the time and date were correct.

They were.

Well... maybe Alfred was simply running late then? That could be it. Five minutes, ten, fifteen-- that was acceptable. Things came up. It wasn't unreasonable that the call start _within_ the hour rather than _on_ the hour, right?

Yes. Arthur relaxed, nodding to himself and taking a steeling sip of the hot tea that sat off to the side of his desk. Alfred was merely late. He would arrive soon and then they would begin.

But he didn't.

 

 

Arthur had waited an hour. Two. Three. Four. _Five_...

Alfred wasn't showing up, was he?

The feeling was crushing, as though he had actually been stood up for a proper date. Ten at night and he wanted more than anything to throw his computer out the window. A message to the boy's account had done nothing and the missed calls had piled up one after another until he'd felt too much shame to continue pursuing the boy.

Had he done something wrong?

Maybe Alfred's passion for horror games had been a fleeting one? Maybe he wasn't really all that interested in beta testing something from his company?

It was past eleven at night when he'd driven himself mad enough to break out the drink.

Worries--unreasonable, unlikely worries--cropped up in his mind, haunting thoughts like banshees that swirled around, nonsensical. It was only then that he realized how bad he had it.

He'd looked forward to Alfred's smile more than his agreement to beta test.

He'd looked forward to Alfred's voice more than his interest in the game.

He'd looked forward to that bubbling, cheerful idiot's emphatic hand gestures when he spoke more than his enjoyment of the horror genre.

Oh lord, he wanted that boy in his bed more than he wanted his hands on a keyboard.

He wanted him to moan in pleasure more than he wanted him to scream in fear.

It was mortifying.

And so he drank.

Because when one couldn't handle the realities of one's situation, it was best to simply blot out the problem with lots and lots of rum.

 

 

"Shit, shit, shit, _shit_..." Alfred cursed, running into the house on careless feet as he very literally tossed his backpack onto the floor.

"Wow, someone's ass is on fire!" Gilbert crowed as he sprinted past the living room. Alfred didn't even stop to yell at him for having Matthew straddling his lap.

"Fuck, I'm such an idiot." He cursed himself, slamming his bedroom door shut. "It was supposed to be _today_. Fuck, fuck..."

Glancing at the clock, he winced. He was seven hours late for the conference call. This could pretty much lose him the entire deal and he knew it. And yet he'd forgotten like it was nothing because, god, he couldn't even _excuse_ why. It'd just slipped his mind completely.

The meeting was supposed to have been at noon.

And yet he should have _remembered_. He should have _known_. When Kiku was showing him those new games, it _should_ have jogged his memory.

But it didn't.

And now it was seven at night and, hell, this Arthur dude was apparently British or whatever so it was probably like the next day there already or something and if not that then at least he was asleep.

"God, why I am such an idiot!" He berated himself, booting his computer and bouncing his leg with such ferocity that one might think he was trying to power it through kinetic energy.

Opening Skype, he felt his stomach drop at the messages.

[12:27pm]  
'Good day Alfred,

It appears to be our meeting time. Please let me know if something has come up and you need to reschedule.

Regards,  
Arthur Kirkland'

[01:12pm]  
'Apologies, I checked to see that I had the correct date and time and it seems that I do. Please let me know if there was some form of miscommunication.'

[03:49pm]  
'Message me when possible.

Thank you.'

Oh god, Arthur sounded _pissed_.

What to do, what to do, what to do...

He'd just have to leave him a message. Yes. A nice, apologetic message. Maybe he could salvage this. Maybe he could make it up to the guy. People missed business meetings all the time, right? And if he had a good excuse--which he didn't--then maybe Arthur'd understand.

It was worth a shot, right?

Moving the cursor to click the text box, his hand jerked and suddenly a pop up window flashed to life on his screen.

"Oh _fuck_ \--,"

He hadn't meant to press call.

He hadn't expected someone to answer before he could cancel it, either.

He hadn't expected the person answering to be completely and totally drunk.

 

Yet the biggest surprise of all, however, was that he hadn't expected said drunk person to be fucking hot as hell.


	4. Debuff

Arthur wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at.

His vision skittered and jumped like a startled mouse, which didn’t help matters at all really. Nothing was steady—everything was moving, moving, _moving_. Swaying. Tilting. The shots had slipped down his throat like snow melt down a waterfall and had stung just as fierce, but the email he was typing was overshadowed by another window and his selection of enter hadn't provided him with the paragraph break that he was looking for.

“Oh _hell_ , what's this…” He muttered, peering at his screen, brow knit. It was Alfred’s image, clearly. “Christ, you’re even in my _nightmares_ , aren’t you?” Arthur added bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. His suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, his tie was loose, his hair was mussed, and his face was blotchy and red from alcohol consumption.

He gave the video an unimpressed glower and poured himself another shot. Tossing it back, he slammed the glass onto the desk with an audible thump.

“Alright, let’s see…” Arthur sighed, pulling his headphones on and adjusting the volume in order to watch the video. Or Stream. Whatever it was.

“Hello?” Came a hesitant voice—Alfred’s, of course. It was always Alfred’s.

Arthur just stared at the feed, arms crossed, perplexed.

This gave the man in the video pause. “ _Hello_ …?” He tried again, giving a little wave. “Arthur? Um, Mr. Kirkland? Can you hear me?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What's this supposed to be…? A message?”

Alfred laughed. “Well, um… a call. But, wow, dude if you’re really that drunk I can try again later. I’m, um… I’m sorry about missing our appointment!” And now he looked a little bit frantic. “I didn’t mean to! Honest! I just, well… I lost track of time and—,”

“God, I’m dreaming. I’m asleep. _Bollocks_.” Arthur breathed, massaging his temple. He _hated_ falling asleep at his desk. Or passing out, rather. _Semantics_. He looked up at the video-Alfred who was watching him, scowling. “Look, I won’t be able to say this to you but… at least I can say this to _you_ : you’re a right arse, you know. Giving me the run around like that.” He sat up, a little indignant. “Do you know how long I waited for you!?”

The Alfred on the screen look satisfyingly guilty. “I know, I know! I’m sorry. Shit.” He adjusted his own webcam a little bit, giving Arthur a pleading look. “I didn’t mean to fuck things up and, damn it… Can I make it up to you somehow? I really _am_ interested in the project…”

“Knowing me… I’ll probably give in and forgive you.” Arthur admitted, fingering his shot glass with vague displeasure. “You’re lucky you have such a cute face or I’d have blocked you already.” He turned his sour gaze to the video feed. It came off more as a pout. He stared a little bit and felt his face heat to the point where he had to exhale a sigh and look away. Leaning back in his chair, he shook his head. “You’re still too bloody attractive for your own good.”

Alfred laughed the laugh of the nervous bar-goer. “Oh, well, um… Thanks. I guess? I mean, I think you’re cute too—the accent, I mean. Accents are hot.”

“What accent?” Arthur muttered gruffly. “ _You’re_ the one with the accent.”

“Not to me, I’m not.” Alfred quipped, making Arthur smile a bit. It seemed the video image got a little bolder at that because he continued on to say, “And besides _British_ accents are so much hotter.” He considered his point and added, “The best.”

A laugh bubbled up in Arthur’s throat at the absurdity of his own dream. “Damn it all, if only you’d say that in the real…” He bemoaned.

“This is real. Uh, well… it’s not a dream at least.” Alfred informed him.

“ ‘Course it is, otherwise— otherwise you’d be an _arsehole_. Or an _idiot_.” Because good things did not happen to Arthur Kirkland, especially not good things in nice, cute, young, American-shaped packages.

“Okay.” Alfred said, conceding his point for the moment. Arthur felt justified. “But I bet if you pinch yourself it’ll hurt.”

Arthur gave the feed a look. “Lad, my life is _hell_. Dreams already hurt.”

“Oh, um. I’m sorry. Is there a… reason for that—?”

“Dead mum, drunk father, brothers who loathe me…” He listed off, ticking things away on his fingers. “My coworkers are largely incompetent, my pay hinges on completion bonuses, I’ve started resorting to black coffee for all-nighters, of which there are a lot, I’ve only dated sparsely but I’ve had more hookups than you could shake a stick at, and yet _despite that_ I’m getting older, I live alone with a cat, and I’m in love with _you_ , so yes, yes my dreams like to remind me of all of that with alarming frequency.”

Arthur sighed as the Alfred on screen was stunned into blessed silence.

“Look, this has been... nice and all…” He slurred a little, giving the man on screen a short wave, “but I much prefer the dreams where you’re in my bed, so goodnight.”

He ended the call, closed the window, and looked back to the email he had been working on.

A thick, throbbing headache was starting to form in his mind.

“Tomorrow.” He muttered. “I’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

And so he went to bed.

 

 

Alfred stared at his screen for five long minutes, simply processing everything, before mechanically getting up and wandering into the kitchen. Barely even thinking, he began to pour himself a bowl of his favourite lazy dinner: cereal.

Matthew came in after him, curious, and for once Alfred didn’t have the mind to point out that he looked as though he’d clearly been engaged in furious making out on the couch. For once, Alfred really didn’t _care_. (And his own face was a little red too, but for entirely different reasons.)

“Al? How’d it go? I heard you talking to someone…” His brother prodded politely, tilting his head. “Did you get a hold of that dev guy?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did…” Alfred said, his attention suddenly coming into focus as he looked at his brother. Turning, he put the milk back into the fridge.

“Well?” Matthew said. “Don’t keep me in suspense. How did it go?”

“Um. Well.” Alfred said weakly. “It went well...”

“That bad?” Gilbert chirped as he wandered in, grinning. “Sounds like you got your ass torn open for being late!”

Alfred blinked at that. That wasn’t quite how he’d put it, although he was now thoroughly convinced that this Arthur Kirkland indeed had a vested interest in his ass.

“Don’t be a jerk, Gil.” Matthew hushed before turning back to his brother. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well, Al. I guess it wasn’t meant to be…”

There was an audible pause in the kitchen as no one said anything for a moment, the silence callusing over thick. Alfred didn't do anything to remedy this, instead taking his bowl of cereal to his room without a word.

Matthew’s worried gaze lingered on his back until he disappeared from view.

Gilbert let out a low whistle and made a face. “Shit, he really _did_ fuck it up.”

“Just give him some time.” Matthew said, glancing at his boyfriend with open concern. “And let’s order him a pizza.”

 

 

Alone in his room, Alfred stared at his monitor as the bowl of cereal sat off to the side untouched. He tapped the space bar, sighed, and leaned back to look at the ceiling.

He pressed a hand over his eyes and felt the heat of his own face, heart thudding in his chest with the weight of a hammer.

“ _Fuck_.”


	5. Resurrection

Arthur awoke with a hangover that throbbed with such completely viciousness that it felt as though someone had turned a blender inside out and was using its mechanism on the soft flesh of his brain. Either that, or perhaps faeries were trying to jam square pegs out each of his ears. Either way, he languished in bed for a time before the oily nature of his face began to annoy him and he stood with the intention of vomiting and taking some hopefully substantial painkillers.

His morning passed with the mild pain of one who’d burst alive the night prior only to suck the energy out of his neighbouring morn.

Eventually he booted his computer, ignored his social media and email, and headed straight for Alfred’s channel. There were no new videos, so he picked an old one—one of his absolute favourites—and settled in with his tea in order to let the younger man’s voice wash over him like a balm. Even meditation wouldn’t have sufficed to soothe him quite like Alfred’s so-called ‘company’ did.

Opening up his email, he noted the sad state his drunken self had taken up in drafting instructions for one of his lads in the animation department and went about fixing it. Once the email was as polished and professional as it should have been in the first place, he sent it out. The only blessing was that he hadn’t lobbed it at the poor, overworked creature the night before. Half the text had been completely unintelligible.

Finally finding it within him to open his Skype messenger, he winced as a little ping informed him that he had awaiting contacts from people. Namely…

Alfred.

Swallowing, Arthur clicked on the boy’s username and for a moment he found himself unable to process what the words said.

[05:23 GMT]  
‘sorry about missing the appointment and stuff.

I didn’t mean to call you while you were drunk so I hope youre not mad when you wake up in the morning. lol but I’m glad you like me so much. youre pretty cute too. we should do the call thing again sometime.’

[05:30 GMT]  
‘mattie said he thought I sound like I want to take advantage of you cuz youre a developer so I wanted to say thats not it at all. sorry if thats weird, just wanted to tell you in advance in case you thought I was being creepy. I really meant it when I said bitish accents ar ethe best.’

[05:30 GMT]  
‘*british’

Arthur stared.

He rose from his seat, paced around his flat, and after a full circuit he returned and sat down again. Re-reading the text, he suddenly felt as though his hangover had disappeared entirely. Scrolling up, he felt his stomach drop to see:

‘Call ended, duration 0:05:47’

Five minutes.

_Five bleeding minutes._

Within that time span what had he said? Clearly too much. Arthur didn’t even remember it, which was honestly the more horrifying part. Certainly he’d pined after Alfred, but _God only knew_ how many other people did the same. And approaching him in this manner—engaging in a video call while drunk and blurting out whatever unholy atrocities he’d spewed—was highly unprofessional and unromantic.

What must Alfred think of him? Surely the boy was just being polite.

But Arthur sat and stared and wrung his hands and in the end he was loathe to believe that Alfred was trying to butter him up for a copy of his game. That simply couldn’t be the case or Arthur wouldn’t have fallen for him in the first place.

But what could he possibly say to him now?

Arthur felt completely and utterly mortified.

 

 

“Has the game guy messaged you back yet?”

Alfred looked up from his screen, dislodging a headphone. “What?”

“Have you heard from that developer guy yet?” Matthew repeated now that his brother could hear him.

“Oh, uh. Nah. Not yet.”

“Wow, really? It’s been three days.”

Alfred nodded. “Yeah, but… I’m kinda not upset, you know? I mean, he said a lot of stuff. I think he might be the type of guy who gets embarrassed _super_ easily.”

“I’d be embarrassed too if I declared my undying love to some stranger on the internet while drunk.” Matthew agreed.

“Yeah.” Alfred said. And then, after a moment’s thought, he added, “Do you think he’ll ever contact me again?”

Matthew peered at his brother, “You worried about getting the game?”

Alfred shook his head, “No… uh… Well…”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk and studying the plaster on the ceiling.

“I’m kinda worried about him, I think.”

“Really?”

“He sounded pretty down on himself, Matt.”

“You don’t know this guy, Alfred.”

“I know…”

“But?”

“But I guess I kinda feel bad? Like, he really seems to like me… _a lot_. And I don’t really know how to deal with that, but if he were some weird stalker he’d probably’ve already bombarded me with like… apologies and stuff, y’know? ‘Cause a stalker would be scared of losing their person. But he hasn’t said anything, so I sorta get the feeling that he’s not that bad of a person…”

Matthew hesitated before admitting, “That’s quite mature of you.”

Alfred’s lip quirked, “Innit?” But the joke wasn’t that funny so his face dropped back into contemplation. “He was cute, Matt. I didn’t get a screenshot, but…”

“Can’t you just search his name online? He is a public figure, after all.”

Alfred jolted and nearly sent himself crashing to the floor—but didn’t! Because he was awesome. Sitting up, he felt elation as he grinned at his brother, “You’re a genius!”

“Of course.” Matthew said uncertainly, watching as his brother typed the words _‘Arthur Kirkland’_ into an image search. A few different people popped up in the results, but Alfred opened one image in particular. “Oh, he’s… Hm…”

“Cute, right?”

“Not quite what I expected.” Matthew finished. “What happened to him being older?”

“I dunno. I haven’t really looked into him all that much.”

“He has some odd eyebrows.” Matthew pointed out.

Alfred wrinkled his nose. “I think that they’re kind of… Well, they _work_. Maybe you’d have to seem him in video to really get it.”

“He’s a developer isn’t he? Couldn’t you just bring up an interview video?”

Alfred looked at his brother in awe. “You’re a lifesaver, Mattie.” He breathed.

Matthew laughed, exasperated, “Okay, now _you’re_ the one who’s starting to sound like the stalker.”

 

 

“Okay, yeah.” Matthew said, several hours of online ‘researching’ later. “He’s… He’s pretty damn _cute_ , Al.”

“Right?”

“And don’t tell Gil I said that. I love him, but he’s jealous as anything…”

Alfred laughed, “I won’t.”

“So, what, you have a crush on him now or something?”

“Maybe.” Alfred decided. “It’s pretty harmless though, right? I mean, we both kinda like the same stuff…”

“He’s a guy.”

“I know.”

“... He’s a guy, Al.”

“I _know_.” Alfred repeated, annoyed. “What’s your point?”

“So, like…” Matthew tried to collect the right way to say this, because it was kind of a touchy subject with his brother but it had to be said at some point. “If you met him in real life and got together, who would top?”

“Me.” Alfred said confidently. “Clearly.”

“You sure? I mean, he is older than you.”

Alfred peered at his brother, pouting. “I’m not bottoming, Matt. I’m not you.”

“I’m just pointing out,” Matthew said, “that you’ve got to be aware of these things going in. Know what you want and don’t give in to something you’re not comfortable with. If this— this Kirkland guy doesn’t fit into that, well, then he’s not for you.”

For a long moment there was silence in the room.

Then Alfred finally managed a bewildered, “I’m not a _virgin_ , Matt!”

Matthew simply patted his head before walking out of the room, a smile dancing on his lips.

Alfred abandoned his computer to follow after. “Holy shit, dude, I don’t need _a sex talk_ from my younger brother. I mean, thanks and all, but—,”

“We’re twins!” Matthew called back, suppressed laughter in his voice.

“I’m older by _two_ minutes!” Alfred retorted, flustered.


End file.
